Secrets at 0200
by Nynaeve506
Summary: Chakotay knows Kathryn has her secrets. Written for VAMB Secret Summer 2014.


_A/N: Written for VAMB's Secret Summer. The request, from red2007 - "A J/C story." Read, review, but as always, enjoy!_

It takes a moment for Chakotay's sleep-blurred vision to focus. His captain is standing in his quarters, wrapped in satin, her hair disheveled and without her clip. It's 0200 and he'd been sleeping soundly but it's clear from the dark circles under her eyes that she hasn't slept well in days. Kathryn has her secrets and he wonders which one is visiting him tonight.

"I want you to cut my hair."

He blinks. It takes a moment for him to realize he hasn't misheard her. "Wouldn't the holodeck be a better choice?" he asks.

Kathryn hugs her robe closer to her petite frame. Doubt and fear, emotions not often seen, surface and there's no mask to hide them. "Their hands always seem cold somehow."

He motions for her to come closer and places a hand on the small of her back as he leads her towards his bathroom. She wants to be touched, but she rations herself, rarely allowing more than the most causal of contact. Chakotay pulls up chair and raises the lights. He can feel her gaze on the skin of his bare back as he unrolls his small kit; it echoes the motions he makes when he's opening his medicine bundle. Kathryn in his space feels sacred, he decides, and he finds himself whispering a prayer to his ancestors in his native tongue.

"It beautiful," she says.

He finishes laying out his tools. "Thank you."

"Should I sit?" She nears him until she's centimeters away. Hints of coffee and mint dust her breath.

Without thinking he takes a lock between his fingers. "I think this might be easier if your hair is wet."

She wordlessly walks towards his shower and she unties her robe. He's supposed to turn away, but he doesn't. She pauses and then continues to undress, her clothing sliding off of her, and he finds himself studying the pale expanse of her back, noting the mole that sits above the left side of her hip.

Kathryn crosses her arms over her chest and rotates partly around. Even with that small bit of modesty he makes out the curve under her breast. She opens her mouth but thinks the better of it and disappears into his shower.

Chakotay inhales deeply and exhales as he retreats to his quarters. He can imagine her form behind beveled glass - a feminine silhouette basking in water so hot it reddens the skin. He permits his mind to wander the hills and valleys of Kathryn's imagined form. It's an incomplete map, one he fills in with fragments from fantasies.

"Chakotay, do you have a towel?"

He keeps his eyes averted as he makes his way to her. His self-control might not hold if he sees her wet, nude form; in fact, he's sure it wouldn't. His fingers are already twitching with the desire to traverse her form in the flesh rather than in mere thought. She takes the towel and he doesn't glance at her until she touches his arm. Her shoulders are smattered with freckles and he can almost taste the cream of her neck on his tongue. Unlike on New Earth, she doesn't blush under his scrutiny. Her own blue eyes are fire and ice intermingled and a tingle runs the length of his spine. She sits, wrapped in Starfleet gray, and he runs a brush through her auburn tresses. They curl at the end and he begins to doubt that he can make a straight cut.

"I'll go to the holodeck later to fix it," Kathryn reassures him. "But I want you to be the one to cut it first."

"Is this because of what happened on Taiden?" A trade mission gone horribly wrong would likely trigger deeper memories for her.

She doesn't answer and that tells Chakotay everything. The Prelate on Taiden had wrapped her hair around his fist and if not for a well-timed shot, Kathryn would have been dragged away and subjected to - Chakotay shakes his head. She's here and there's little point in dwelling on catastrophic possibilities.

"It reminded me of…" she trails off. "It doesn't matter."

But it does. He knows this. A hidden memory in a distant part of the galaxy is now present in the room. Chakotay brushes his fingers across the skin peeking over the top of the towel and he feels the intake of breath. She's not here for a haircut. She's here looking for an angel to fight her demons.

"I disagree." He let's a beat pass and then dares her towards intimacy, placing his hands on either shoulder. "Let me in, Kathryn."

Her muscles tense as she weighs how wide to open the doors to her sanctuary. "I was a prisoner once. A long time ago."

Chakotay gives her a gentle squeeze and holds it. Does he stick his foot in the door? Does he settle for a peek? Her presence in his quarters suggests that in her search for safety from demons, she's willing to be reckless with him.

"Anyone I know?" He releases her so that he can comb and measure for the cut he's not sure he can make. The scissors make a satisfying _snip_. _Snip._ _Snip._

"The Cardassians." Kathryn's voice is low.

He hovers. Long hair. A prelate with too much power. A woman in the custody of the Cardassians. He knows the enemy. So does she. There are questions he wants to ask. In the quiet that lapses between them, the abyss in which Kathryn keeps her secrets appears bottomless. She's told him a hundred stories and there are at least a thousand more she keeps private. He wants them all. He wants her pain. He wants her trust. He wants her to open up and let him in and to let him touch the scars that still ache.

"Chakotay." There's a light admonition in her tone forcing him from his reverie.

He finishes the trim. It's practical in design, that is to say, it's straight and that's more than he thought he was capable of. A comb tames the errant strands and he looks at her through his mirror.

"Done."

She touches her coif and she almost seems startled when her hand reaches the end. _Phantom locks_, Chakotay muses.

"Thank you."

She stands up and goes to collect her robe, pooled on his bathroom floor. Kathryn starts to undo the towel and then pauses. "Give me a minute?"

Chakotay smiles and turns to stand guard outside the bathroom. With the images seared into his brain there's no way he'll be sleeping tonight. Kathryn has always inspired both love and lust inside him. He's gotten used to her light teasing, her minor flirtations. He's learned how to dance on the line of the game they play. Tonight, however, it seems as though she's daring him to misstep. She walks by him and he reaches for her as the satin cloth brushes by.

"What are you doing, Kathryn?" He didn't expect to hear a plea in his question, but he does.

"Going to bed." There's a husk in her voice that hints at uncertainty.

"That's not what I mean." His heart is racing. He's warm and light headed, which given the direction of his blood comes as no surprise. He tightens his grip and pulls her to him, a different dance tempting him. A dip and his lips would be on hers. A slip of the hand and he could have her naked. Two steps to the bed. A push onto the mattress. Gods and spirits, he wants to hear her moan his name. But he stays still, holding her.

"I needed more. Tonight. I just needed… more," she confesses.

"Are you satisfied?" he asks. When she hesitates, he leans to her ear and whispers, "Be honest with me."

"No." She swallows and her breath hitches in her chest. "But what I want I can't have."

She has to know what she's doing to him, and as he studies the flush of her lips and the way her pupils dilate, he is fully aware of what he's doing to her. Would she let him? If he pushed her those two steps to his bed and onto his mattress, would she let him explore her body the way he's desperate to? With the last drop of control he has, he pulls away from her.

Kathryn has her secrets.

And now he knows that he is one of them.


End file.
